The old wives' tale;

UC-NRLF

p.

The Old Wives' Tale

A Play

by-
GEORGE PEELE

As presented at Middlebury College in 1911

Edited with Notes and an Introduction
BY

FRANK W. CADY, A.M., B.Litt. (Oxon)

ARTletVeRJTAni

BOSTON: RICHARD G. BADGER

TORONTO: THE COPP, CLARK CO., LIMITED

Introduction and Stage Directions
Copyright, 1916, by Richard G. Badger

All Rights Reserved

- 73y

\°(\Q>

Made in the United States of America

The Gorham Press, Boston, U. S. A.

INTRODUCTION

Of the plays of George Peele, The Old Wives'
Tale was long in least repute. Critics looked at
it askance because they failed to realize its purpose,
and so felt it to be a jumble of all sorts of things
of little virtue and less interest. The critic is at
home with the conventional, and this play is in
some respects unconventional. It was not to be
subjected to the usual standards of judgment, and
so the critic passed it over, after expressing mild
surprise that Milton should have honored so feeble
a thing by making it the source of the story told in
Com us. And yet the chief devices used in con-
structing the Tale are strikingly conventional; it is
only in sources and purpose that Peele shows his
originality.

The thing which distinguishes Elizabethan drama
from other dramatic types is the control of the
story by the characters. In classic drama once the
story is decided upon the characters and their places
in it are fixed. Not so in Elizabethan. It had,
strictly speaking, no story unity. The major story
of the plot was hardly more than a starting point
in getting together a group of characters typical in
a general way of the society of the times and form-
ing the center of unity around which action, spec-
3

300

4 . ... INTRODUCTION

tacle, and dialogue were grouped. Of uch a play
the Merchant of Venice is a typical example. The
major story is the story of Portia and Bassanio.
To it naturally is added Antonio's experience with
Shylock. But Shylock has a daughter and she a
lover, and Tubal is Shylock's closest friend, and
Portia has other suitors besides Bassanio, and
Launcelot Gobbo has some uncertainty whom he
shall serve. So it goes, here a little and there a
little added to the original story, until at the end
we have before us a group of people varied and yet
homogeneous, each with his own life story inter-
woven inextricably with those of the others. The
unity, however, is found in the homogeneous group
of characters and not in the diverse stories of their
lives. It is in the characters, also, that the realism
of The Merchant of Venice shows itself. They it
is that give the atmosphere of plausibility to a most
improbable series of events. Stage tradition, in-
herited from medieval times, took no thought of
temporal or spatial perspective. The people in
The Merchant of Venice are English men and
women transported to Venice for the story's sake.
The story is extravagant and absurd. It is ac-
cepted without question because the people whose
it is are real and intensely alive. The great secret
of Shakespeare's skill in character portrayal was
his genius; but the traditional habit of his theater
to make characters English and realistic and to
subordinate story to the presentation of a homoge-

INTRODUCTION 5

neous socid group gave him his magnificent oppor-
tunity. He came in the fullness of time.

It is true, however, that by the time Shakespeare
wrote his comedies there was ready for him a story
formula which had been found especially effective
in the presentation of this homogeneous character
group. To it he added, certainly, but he did not
alter it materially, because his interest was primar-
ilv in the group of characters and the story was
scarcely more than a vehicle of expression. In fol-
lowing this formula he made up his plot from two
or three stories. There was a story dealing with
people of the better class. As was normal in his
day it was from the point of view of these people
that the social group was handled. Beside this
ran another story about characters whose social
rank was low, tradesmen, or servants, or social
outcasts. The chief story was always borrowed.
The minor story might be borrowed or original.
But it always seems to grow out of an attempt to
give social orientation to the people in the main
story through an enlargement of the background
of their life by an original treatment of the minor
characters in the story. Often by the sheer force
of its originality and consequent realism it usurped
the interest of the main story and ran away with
the play. However that might be, the action of
these stories was always skillfully interrelated by
the use of character or situation in precisely the
same way that the life stories of any homogeneous

6 INTRODUCTION

group of men and women would be related. Often,
indeed, Shakespeare invented a third story, or group
of episodes, to bind the other two together, as in
Midsummer-night's Dream, where the fairies are
so used, or the Jessica-Lorenzo episodes in The
Merchant of Venice, or Dogberry and the Watch
in Much Ado. But the total effect was to give
the impression of a cross-section of Elizabethan so-
ciety, each group intent upon its own purposes, but
in accomplishing them plausibly assisting the pur-
poses of the other groups. The unity lay not in
the story, but in the homogeneity of the group of
characters. This is not the place to discuss further
Shakespeare's artistic skill in presenting this homo-
geneous group. The point here to be made is that
Peele, with a skill not equaling Shakespeare's, is
using the same formula. It is in this respect that
the play is a forerunner of greater things.

The play is a fairy story. In order to got his
audience into the mood he desires, Peele m&kes use
of that perfectly conventional Elizabethan device,
j-frr jndiirtinn, In it Madge begins to tell the fairy
tale, when the actors themselves break in upon the
scene and the action is at once under way, like a
dream come true. Madge in the induction and
throughout the play performs a necessary and im-
portant service in making Peele's purpose plain
and in keeping it before the audience; but at the
start she is well content to see others enact her
Story for her. When it is well under way it is

INTRODUCTION 7

seen to consist of aj_ least t\vo_slojjci._ Each of
these centers about a double quest. In the main
story two brothers are searching for their sister
who has been spirited away by a sorcerer. The
other part of the double quest in this main story
is taken up by a lover of the sister who comes
seeking her. In the minor story two crude fellows
aping the chivalry of their betters enter uporT~a
quest for one whom we are allowed to believe is
the same young woman ; but they are satisfied each
with one of the two daughters jpf LampjjJscus, a
villager, whose quest for husbands for his daugh-
ters is the second part of the minor story. All of
these quests are bound together by the presence in
the plot of the story of Erestus, who is the prophet
of good, and foretells to each seeker what he may
hope from his quest. Erestus himself is under
the power of the sorcerer in the play who has stolen
{his lady and driven her mad. Here we have the
story of those in higher walks of life and that of
those in the lower interrelated in many ways and
bound together by a third story acting as a cement
between the other two. In this respect it does not
differ from the practice of Shakespeare himself.

Peele is, however, much more skillful in his use
of the induction than in his use of the formuFa for
romantic comedy. In fact, without the induction
the story would hardly hang together, because the
group of characters does not have quite the homo-
geneity Shakespeare succeeded in imparting to his

8 INTRODUCTION

groups, and without which it is difficult to give a
romantic comedy the impression of unity. And
yet the matter of the story is but a fairy tale, and
Madge so successfully introduced its outline into
her induction that she has given itr^n_iropxession
of unity it otherwise would not have.

It is perfectly true, one must confess, that these
two major conventionalities would of themselves
give The Old Wives' Tale no more than a historic
interest were it not for two matters in which Peele
showed more originality. In the first place, his
choice of sources for the situations in the play was
entirely original. Instead of turning to the con-
ventional sources in the romantic literature and
drama of the time, Peele went to the fairvjore of
his_jawn laad-,- the romance of the folk, and put into
his play the versions of familiar tales which he had
himself without doubt heard in childhood. In the
second place, by the use he makes of the induction,
he not only emphasizes in the minds of the audience
the sources of the play, but reminds them that the
outlook upon life which he wishes them to take in
viewing it is not that of the court and its sophistica-
| tion, but that of people like Madge and her com-
panions. Not alone original in his sources, he was
also original in the point of view from which he
got his outlook upon life in the play.

Bound up in the conventional formula for ro-
mantic comedy as used by Shakespeare there was
the conventional point of view characteristic of the

INTRODUCTION 9

times. Society did not center, as it does to-day, in
the ubiquitous working-man. Elizabethan society
existed for the upper classes. For this reason the
audience was asked by the playwright of the time
to identify itself in sympathetic point of view with
the characters who take part in the central roman-
tic story of the play. In Midsummer-night's Dream,
for instance, we see everything from the viewpoint
of the lovers and their set. That the crew of Bot-
tom are thus seen is evident from the last act. Bot-
tom is funny to the spectators, but to himself he is
profoundly serious. How definitely the point of
view of the play is that of the upper classes is ap-
parent when one attempts to imagine the events
from Bottom's viewpoint. A play viewing lffe
from that angle would, it might be said, be possi-
ble only in this modern day. These plays were
written at a time when society had not become
self-conscious and before sociology had cast its
sombre shadow across men's lives.

So it is that Peele dared to do the unconven^
tional and original thing when he asked his audi-!
ence to identify itself for this play with Madge and,
her companions and not with the lost maiden and*
those in quest of her; to sit, that is, once more
around the fireplace as they had done in their far-
distant childhood, and see again through the narra-
tive of an old and withered crone, as once they
had, the romances of fairy-land unfolded before
them. In its final effect Peele has asked us to look

IO

INTRODUCTION

h

again at the world from the point of view of the
child, as Barrie has done for this age in Peter Pan.
And in making this request he has revealed his
purpose in the play. The spectator's mind is im-
mediately divided against itself. The judgment of
the child in him is made severely critical of the
sophistication of the adult and, in this way, a dou-
ble criticism of contrast is, as it were, set into
action concerning the matters treated within the
play. <Peele makes of his fairy stories a dramatic
criticism of the romantic chivalry of the day. By
establishing this original viewpoint of his in the
minds of the spectators he makes this criticism two-
edged. Not alone are the characters of the minor
plot in their exaggeration a satire upon the roman-
tic chivalry soberly treated in the main plot. That
main plot itself exhibits a chivalry exaggerated and
yet in many subtle ways debased by Madge's plebe-
ian imagination. The chivalry of courtiers must
have undergone a marked change in spirit and in
deeds when seen from the point of view of the
child who is listening to a story told by a woman
like her. To set up this viewpoint is just what
Peele successfully attempts in this play. This is
what was meant by Professor Gummere when he
said: "He (Peele) was the first to blend romantic
drama with a realism which turns romance back
upon itself, and produces the comedy oT subcoh-
scious humor." For we are constantly comparing
the point of view which Peele brings to the fore-

INTRODUCTION n

ground by his realistic appeal to us to be children
once more, with the usual point of view subcon-
sciously asserting itself as we see the play or read it.

The same point of view is carefully maintained
in the presentation of the characters. That these
are conventional types is at once apparent. But
they are seen very largely through the eyes of
Madge. There is a colourless regularity about the
people in the major story which reflects her opinion
of them as proper in their place, but uninteresting.
Huanebango, of course, is a modification of the
conventional braggart soldier; but in the eyes of
Madge he is the only genuine and lively exponent
of true chivalry. The rustics become invested with
a more sympathetic interest because she is one of
them; and Erestus, the spirit of good within the
play, is the only one of the characters from the
upper classes who has her undivided sympathy and
respect.

To a modern audience, it is true, both the so-
ciety of that day and the stage practice have be-
come traditional and even obsolete. The plays of
that time have become nothing but archaisms of
only historical interest unless they happen to pre-
sent some matter of present human interest. Shake-
speare is perennial, for instance, in two respects,
his poetry and his characterization. His stage prac-
tice has become obsolete; his point of view toward
society has perished with the society that gave it
birth ; but his people live to us in spite of this, and

12 INTRODUCTION

his poetry speaks to the heart of man in every age.
The question in regard to The Old Wives' Tale is,
What is there in the play of present human interest
which makes worth while a modern presentation?
It probably does not lie in poetry or characteriza-
tion. It lies, rather, in the very things in which
Peele showed his originality: the perennial child-
interest in fai^-tale to which he appealed in his
choice of sources, and the perennial interest to an
adult in returning to look upon life through the
eyes of a child. The fast flocking memories of
childhood carried the story in Peele's day and
interpreted its humor and satire as he wished it
to be interpreted. So they do to-day, in spite of
obsolete stage conventions and social forms. In
appealing to the perennial interest in fairy stories,
Peele was assuring to himself an interested audience
as long as the old tales continued to be the property
of the children of the race.

Upon looking at the matter from this point of
view, it becomes evident at once that in any modern
presentation of the play the Jak^_£kment is the
one which needs to be emphasized. The producer
has before him in the large three possibilities: to
reproduce, as far as possible, the Elizabethan stage
and setting; to make an out-door presentation; or
to set the play upon a modern picture stage with all
the scenic accessories that are to-day available. If
the present text is based upon the first of the three
possibilities, it is not because the producers failed

INTRODUCTION 13

to see how effective the other methods of presenta-
tion might be made, but because to them at that
time the first seemed the most feasible.

No large liberties were taken with the text aside
from the shifting of one scene. A fairy dance ac-
companied by song was made the prologue to the
play. Again within the induction the fairies danced
when the song "When as the rye" was sung; and
at the end a final fairy dance preceded the epilogue,
which was a modern addition to the play. Per-
haps the most questionable innovation was found in
having "The Mad Maid's Song," by Robert Her-
rick, sung while Venelia was upon the stage. In
addition to these things, fairies were made to open
and shut the curtains, place and remove properties,
and perform other incidental functions tending to
keep their activities in mind. The details of these
devices are revealed in the text, in which every
change from the original form is carefully indicated.

A word should, perhaps, be said about the stage.
Its construction is an easy matter, requiring a very
moderate outlay. The only essentials are an open
front stage and a back stage, before which a curtain
is hung. There should be two entrances to the
open front stage, one on either side of the curtain
hung before the back stage. The entrances to the
back stage can be arranged to suit the convenience
of the play which is to be given. For instance, it
was found that the fireplace., made an effective en-
trance and exit for the characters in Madge's in-

i4 INTRODUCTION

terrupted tale. Properties are few and solid. They
may be disposed to suit the conception of the set-
ting which is being worked out by the producers.
The modified stage used at the production of which
this edition is the outcome is shown in the frontis-
piece. It is much more elaborate than is needed,
much larger in many ways; though it is far more
simple than would be any setting of the play upon
a modern stage. Its general form was taken from
a cut of the ground plan of the Blackfriar's drawn
by Professor C. F. Wallace for an article in the
Century for September, 1910. But the arrange-
ment of properties and of exits and entrances, other
than the two exposed to the audience, was entirely
to suit the convenience of this production.

The conception of the stage held by Elizabethan
playwrights was in essence very simple. They were
accustomed to think of the broad open front stage
as anywhere, suiting the scene to be represented.
Sometimes it took its locality from settings ex-
posed upon the back stage when the curtain was
withdrawn. When the curtain was closed it was
generally simply an open place. The space behind
the curtain, the back stage, was always a definite
locality, though that might change as the scenes
changed. With this in mind, it was necessary to
place the house of Clunch, the magic well, and the
cell of Sacrapant behind the curtain. The cross
where three roads met and the mound of earth with
<fhe magic glass' would as necessarily be on the open

INTRODUCTION 15

stage. At the beginning of the play the open stage
is a wood into which the three vagabonds enter,
and after Madge is interrupted in her story, that
same open stage becomes the fairy-land where all
these strange wonders happen. The details are
presented in the stage directions. In the manner
thus briefly indicated was effected .the first essential
detail in presenting Peek's point of view, an ade-
quate stage setting.

And yet, although the simplicity of the Eliza-
bethan stage has its charm, it also has its limita-
tions. The Old Wives' Tale is a true out-doors
play. It calls for the witchery of moonlight to
help make its improbabilities seem probable. This
the bare stage could not give nor does the poetry
of the play help in the least to bring the illusion
of Fairyland as does that of The Midsummer-
night's Dream. Next best would be a modern set-
ting in which the art of the stage manager could
most effectively supplement the art of the poet.
But, after all, if the note that is timeless in the
play, the note of Fairyland, the note of father and
mother looking again at life through the eyes of
their children — if that note is caught and held
throughout, even the strangeness of the antique
stage, in its novelty and intimacy with the audi-
ence, adds to the interest and in some subtle man-
ner increases the beauty of the presentation. Nor
do the changes in the play appear as anachronisms
so long as they are in harmony with this central

16 INTRODUCTION

touch of perennial interest. Robert Herrick may
have written after Peele's play was forgotten; but
his note was the note struck by that part of the
play in which his song is used ; and it would be
far from the thought of any Elizabethan to deny
the right to any one to borrow where he could to
enhance the dramatic value of his play. They
stood not upon the order of their stealing, but stole
at once, where it was a question of the play's success.

These are the matters of importance in connec-
tion with adapting the play to a modern audience.
A word may not be amiss about the various charac-
ters. The most difficult acting parts are those of
the onlookers, Madge and her companions, and yet
upon them very largely rests the business of hold-
ing the audience to Peele's point of view. The
stage directions have been made to indicate their
business in a general way; but detail must of neces-
sity be left to individual initiative. The characters
of the main story are rather colourless, but call for
careful work in the presentation. Erestus is espe-
cially effective. Huanebango and Corebus, with
their ladies, beggar description in any adequate
presentation ; the low comedy possibilities of the four
are almost limitless. Jack and Sacrapant are foils
to each other in dignity and frolicsomeness. It is
not intended, so it seems, that the ghost of Jack
shall be presented as invisible. He is simply unseen
by the other actors at the right times.

And so the modern version of the play has grown

INTRODUCTION 17

out of the old through an attempt to make it cer-
tain that the modern audience would catch the fairy
spirit which pervades it. The elaborate stage direc-
tions, so unlike the antique practice, have been in-
serted that those who read and see not may possi-
bly get some of that same spirit as they read. The
Old Wives' Tale is not a great tale, but it is a
pleasant one. The deeds it chronicles are not the
deeds of every day, but those of a childlike fancy.
The people whom it brings to life are creatures of
every day seen through the glorifying eyes of those
whose minds are simple. It is the perennial com-
ment of childhood upon life that gives the play
its charm.

It is impossible and unwise to go into more detail
out of personal experience in the presentation of
the play. Mr. Archibald Henderson has truly sug-
gested that stage and audience, traditions and con-
ventions are but tools in the hands of a playwright
of genius, which he uses to create a work of art.
But it is true that when once his work of art is
created it is in turn the tool of producer and actor
through which they present their interpretation of
the life it expresses. For this reason there is only one
royal rule for success. Make the play your own
until it masters you and then build into its pro-
duction its mastery over your soul. If you are an
artist you will not be satisfied until you make
people see the play through your eyes. By that
your artistic measure must be taken.

DRAMATIS PERSONS

Sacra pa nt

First Brother, named Calypha

Second Brother, named Thelea

eumenides

Erestus

Lampriscus ^rJXi

HUANEBANGO

COREBUS

WlGGEN

Churchwarden

S EXTON

Ghost of Jack

Delia, sister to Calypha and Thelea

Venelia, betrothed to Erestus

Z antippa, daughter to Lampriscus

Celanta, daughter to Lampriscus

Hostess

Antic

Frolic

Fantastic

Clunch, a smith

Madge, his wife

Friar

Furies

Epilogue

Harvestmen and Women, Fairies, etc.

OLD WIVES' TALE

OLD WIVES' TALE

[The open stage, as of the Blackfriar's Theater
in Elizabethan London. Back center a curtain with
entrances each side. Right front (as seen by the
audience) a cross ivhere three roads are supposed
to meet. Left front a mound of earth. To right
of cross and left of mound of earth, stools for spec-
tators. Over each entrance, legends: over the left,
The Road by the Forge of Clunch ; over the right,
The Road to the House of Lampriscus; by each,
To Fairyland.

Off stage are heard voices singing a song, The
Fairy Ring, and from either entrance burst in fairies
coming to dance upon the green. They are clad in
all the hues of spring and ripple with gladness as
they dance. At the end they go out as they came in.

Enter, left, Antic, Fantastic, and Frolic, three
knights- of the weary nay in tattered raiment:
Frolic, weary and footsore; Fantastic, steeped in
melancholy and shivering between fear and cold;
Antic, famished, and hindered in utterance by a
stammering tongue. They have lost their way in
the forest and are in abject fear.~\ 1

1 Throughout, the presence of brackets indicates mat-
ter inserted in the present text.

19

20 OLD WIVES' TALE

Ant. How now, fellow Frolic ! what, all 1
amort? doth this sadness become thy madgess?
What though we have lost our way in the woods?
yet never hang the head as though thou hadst no
hope to live till to-morrow ; for Fantastic and I
will warrant thy life to-night for twenty in the
hundred.

Fro. Antic, and Fantastic, as I am frolic
franion,2 never in all my life was I so dead slain.
What, to lose our way in the wood, without either
fire or candle, so uncomfortable? O caelum! O
terra! O maria! O Neptune!

Fan. WTiy makes thou it so strange, seeing
Cupid hath led our young master to the fair lady,
and she is the only saint that he hath sworn to
serve ?

Fro. What resteth, then, but we commit him
to his saint, and each of us take his stand up in a
tree, and sing out our ill fortune to the tune of
"O man in desperation"?

Ant. Desperately spoken, fellow Frolic, in the
dark: but seeing it falls out thus, let us rehearse
the old proverb:

"Three merry men, and three merry men,
And three merry men be we ;
I in the wood, and thou on the ground,
And Jack sleeps in the tree."

[J dog barks without.]

1 Dejected.

3 A gay, carefree fellow.

OLD WIVES' TALE 21

Fan. Hush! a dog in the wood, or a wooden 1
dog! O comfortable hearing! I had even as lief
the chamberlain of the White Horse had called me
up to bed.

Fro. Either hath this trotting cur gone out of
his circuit, or else are we near some village, which
should not be far off, for I perceive the glimmer-
ing of a glow-worm, a candle, or a cat's eye, my
life for a halfpenny !

[Enter, left, Clunch, the aged smith, returning
aeary from his day's work, with lantern in his hand.
He limps slightly with the years and wears the
leathern apron of his trade. Not too cordial a man
is this weary smith, though he still knows the uses
of hospitality.]

In the name of my own father, be thou ox or ass
that appearest, tell us what thou art.

Clunch. What am I ! why, I am Clunch, the
smith. What are you ? what make you in my terri-
tories at this time of the night?

Ant. What do we make, dost thou ask? why,
we make faces for fear.

Fro. And, in faith, sir, unless your hospitality
do relieve us, we are like to wander, writh a sor-
rowful heigh-ho, among the owlets and hobgoblins
of the forest. Good Vulcan, for Cupid's sake that
hath cozened us all, befriend us as thou mayst;
and command us howsoever, wheresoever, whenso-
ever, in whatsoever, for ever and ever.
1 Wooden — mad. Note the pun.

22 OLD WIVES' TALE

Clunch. Well, masters, it seems to me you
have lost your way in the wood: in consideration
whereof, if you will go with Clunch to his cottage,
you shall have house-room and a good fire to sit
by, although we have no bedding to put you in.

Fan. O blessed smith.1

Ant. O bountiful Clunch!1

Clunch. For your further entertainment, it
shall be as it may be, so and so. [The dog barks
within.~\ Hark! this is Ball, my dog, that bids
you all welcome in his own language: come, take
heed for stumbling on the threshold. — Open door,
Madge; take in guests.

[The curtains are opened by two fairies who van-
ish. On the right is revealed the house of Clunch
and Madge, with cheery fire-place, a comfortable
settle, a table set with meager fare, a few stools, etc.
On the left is a well, with step and sweep. Center
is the Cell of Sacrapant behind closed curtains.
Above is the railing of a balcony. Madge, the wife
of Clunch, is standing center. She is an old, bent
woman, but as cheery as the blaze of her own fire,
and whole-hearted in welcoming the guests Clunch
brings.]

Madge. Welcome, Clunch, and good fellows
all, that come with my good-man: for my good-
man's sake, come on, sit down: here is a piece of
cheese, and a pudding of my own making.

Ant. Thanks, gammer. [He begins to eat

*In the original text these are one speech spoken by All.

OLD WIVES' TALE 23

hastily.] A good example for the wives of our
town.

Fro. Gammer, thou and thy good-man sit lov-
ingly together ; we come to chat, and not to eat.

Clunch. Well, masters, if you will eat noth-
ing, take away. [Madge removes food. Antic
grievously disappointed.] ComeA__what do we to
pass away the time? \To Madge.] Lay a crab
in the tin- to roast tor lamb's wool.1 What, shall
we have a game at trump2 or ruff2 to drive away
the time? How say you?

Fan. This smith leads a life as merry as a king
with Madge, his wife. Sirrah Frolic, I am sure
thou art not without some JtaleJ^or other! no
doubt but Clunch can bear his part.

Fro. Else think you me ill brought up : so set
to it when you will.

[Here they are astonished by the music of a song
in the distance of which these are the words.]

SONG

Whenas the rye reach to the chin,

And chopcherry, chopcherry ripe within,

Strawberries swimming in the cream,

And school-boys playing in the stream ;

Then, O then, O then, O my true-love said,

Till that time come again

She could not live a maid.

1 A drink of ale and of crab-apples roasted.

3 Common card games.

3 "Round" in the original.

24 OLD WIVES' TALE

[Enter on either side the fairies again.~\

[Fro. Marry, what are these? I fear me,
Clunch, there is some witchery about, or these be
fairies come to dance upon the green.]

[The fairies after a dance go out.]

Ant. This sport does well [an it were not
sorcery] ; but methinks, gammer, a merry winter's
tale would drive away the time trimly: come, I
am sure you are not without a score.

Fan. I'faith, gammer, a. tale of an hojir_long
were as good as an hour's, sleep.

Fro. Look you, gammer, of the giant and the
king's daughter, and I know not what: I have seen
the day, when I was a little one, you might have
drawn me a mile after you with such a discourse.

Madge. Well, since you be so importunate, my
good-man shall fill the pot and get him to bed. [As
she is speaking Clunch goes to the well for water
and therewith fills the pot upon the fire.] They
that ply their work must keep good hours: one of
you go lie with him; he is a clean-skinned man, I
tell you, without either spavin or windgall: so I
am content to drive away the time with an old
wives' winter's tale.

Fan. No better hay in Devonshire ; o' my word,
gammer, I'll be one of your audience.

Fro. And I another, that's flat.

Ant. Then must I to bed with the good-man. —
Bona nox, gammer. — Good night, Frolic.

Clunch. Come on, my lad, thou shalt take thy

OLD WIVES' TALE 25

unnatural rest with me. [Exit with Antic]

Fro. Yet this vantage shall we have of them in
the morning, to be ready at the sight thereof
extempore.

[Frolic and Fantastic remove the table. Madge
places her stool near the settle and stirs the fire.
As the old ivife begins her tale she sits on the settle
next Frolic, who is by the fire. Fantastic is on a
stool at her right. All during the story Frolic,
though interested, affects disdain while Fantastic
hears it out with pricked-up, eager ears.]

Madge. Now this bargain, my masters, must I
make with you, that you will say hum and ha to
my tale, so shall I know you are awake.

Both. Content, gammer, that will we do. —

Madge. Once upon a tirne, there was a king, or
a lord, or a duke, that had a fair daughter, the
fairest that ever was; as white as snow and as red
as blood: and once upon a time his daughter was
stolen away: and he sent all his men to seek out
his daughter; and he sent so long, that he sent all
his men out of his land.

Fro. Who drest his dinner, then?

Madge. Nay, either hear my tale, or turn tail.

Fan. Well said ! on with your tale, gammer.

Madge. O Lord, I quite forgot! there was a
conjurer, and this conjurer could do anything, and
he turned himself Into a great ^ragon, and carried
the king's daughter away in his mouth to a castle
that he made of stone; and there he kept her I

/

26 OLD WIVES' TALE

know not how long, till at last all the king's men
went out so long that her two brothers went to
seek her. O, I forget! she (he, I would say)
turned a proper young man to a bear in the night,
and a man in the day, and keeps by a cross that
parts three several ways; and he made his lady
run mad, — Ods me bones, who comes here?

[Enter, fireplace, the two brothers. Two in one,
or one in two, are these who venture after their
sister into this maze of sorcery. As proper young
gentlemen as one would see in summer s day, but
simple-minded and somewhat colorless withal, yet
well suited and with weapons at their sides. As
they enter the three about the fire are seen to nod
their understanding of the tale.~\

Fro. Soft, gammer, here some come to tell your
tale for you.

Fan. Let them alone; let us hear what they
will say.1

First Bro. Upon these chalky cliffs of Albion
We are arrived now with tedious toil;
„ And compassing the wide world round about,
To seek our sister, to seek fair Delia forth,
Yet cannot we so miicji^js hear of her.

[Enter, fireplace,' Erestus, to the cross, unseen
by the two brothers, an old man, half wizard and
half friar, in gown of grey ivith rosary and crucifix.
He walks head down and counts his beads and begs
an alms, while Madge points him out to her com-
1 This closes the induction.

OLD WIVES' TALE 27

panions; and yet he is the poner for good within
tin- play. 11 ho pats to naught the plans of sorcery,
fittingly he stands by the cross where meet three
ways to warn the passers-by against the sorcerer.]

Second Bro. O fortune cruel, cruel and unkind !
Unkind in that we cannot find our sister,
Our sister, hapless in her cruel chance. —

[He sees Erestus.]
Soft! who have we here?

First Bro. Now, father, God be your speed !
what do you gather there?

Erest. Hips and haws, and sticks and straws,
and things that I gather on the ground, my son.

First Bro. Hips and haws, and sticks and
straws! why, is that all your food, father?

Erest. Yea, son.

Second Bro. Father, here is an alms-penny for
me; and if I speed in that I go for, I will give thee
as good a gown of grey as ever thou didst wear.

First Bro. And, father, here is another alms-
penny for me ; and if I speed in my journey, I will
give thee a palmer's staff of ivory, and a scallop-
shell of beaten gold.

Erest. Was she fair?

Second Bro. Ay, the fairest for white, and the
purest for red, as the blood of the deer, or the driven
snow.

Erest. Then hark well, and mark well, my old
spell :
Be not afraid of every stranger;

28 OLD WIVES' TALE

[Frolic crosses himself, the others show fear.]
Start not aside at every danger;
Things that seem are not the same;
Blow a blast at every flame;
For when one flame of fire goes out,
Then come your wishes well about:
If any ask who told you this good,
Say, the white bear of England!s_w:ood.

First Bro. Brother, heard you not what the
old man said?
Be not afraid of every stranger;
Start not aside for every danger;
Things that seem are not the same ;
Blow a blast at every flame;
For when one flame of fire goes out,
Then come your wishes well about;
If any ask who told you this good,
Say, the white bear of England's wood.

Second Bro. Well, if this do us any good,
Well fare the white bear of England's wood!

[The two brothers go out by the magic well,
second brother repeating first two lines of the spell.]

Erest. Now sit thee here, and tell a heavy tale.
Sad in thy mood, and sober in thy cheer.
Here sit thee now, and to thyself relate
The hard mishap of thy most wretched state.

[Madge and her companions again nod their un-
derstanding and Madge prepares to knit, since
others are telling her story for her.]
In Thessaly I lived in sweet content,

OLD WIVES' TALE 29

Until that fortune wrought my overthrow ;

For there I wedded was unto a dame,

That lived in honor, virtue, love, and fame.

But Sacrapant, that cursed sorcerer, - ;

Being besotted with my beauteous love,

My dearest love, my true betrothed wife,

Did seek the means to rid me of my life.

But worse than this, he with his 'chanting spells

Did turn me straight unto an ugly hear;

And when the sun doth settle in the west,

Then I begin to don my ugly hide:

And all the day I sit, as now you see,

And speak in riddles, all inspired with rage,

Seeming an old and miserable man,

And yet I am in April of my age.

[But now,]1 Venelia, my betrothed love,

Runs madding, all enraged, about the woods,

All by his cursed and enchanting spells. —

[Enter, fireplace, Venelia, his lady, mad, search-
ing about for the lover of whom her dim mind
holds a fleeting memory, but whom she cannot rec-
ognize. The three by the fireplace fear her and as
she goes out thereat Fantastic explores the chimney
with terror-stricken glances.

All the while she is upon the stage, the singers
heard before are singing the "Mad Maid's Song" of
Robert Herrick.]

[Ah,] 2 here comes Lampriscus, my discontented

1 Original, See where.
'Original, But.

30 OLD WIVES' TALE

neighbour.

{Enter, left, Lampriscus, old, leaning on a staff,
a beggarly man, querulous from much hen-pecking,
the wreck of what might once have been a man. He ,
bears a pot of honey. Lampriscus is a fellow-villager
with Clunch and Madge, one only indirectly con-
nected with the fairy story through his daughters,
vicariously a fairy as it were. During the Lam-
priscus incident Madge knits busily, but attentively,
Fantastic goes peacefully to sleep, and Frolic is
enduring somewhat impatiently his aching feet.~\

How now, neighbour! you look towards the
ground as well as I : you muse on something.

Lamp. Neighbour, on nothing but on the matter
I so often moved to you: if you do anything for
charity, help me; if for neighbourhood or brother-
hood, help me; never was one so cumbered as is
poor Lampriscus; and to begin, I pray receive this
pot of honey, to mend your fare.

Erest. Thanks, neighbour, set it down; honey
is always welcome to the bear. And now, neigh-
bour, let me hear the cause of your coming.

Lamp. I am, as you know, neighbour, a man
unmarried, and lived so unquietly with my two
wives, that I keep every year holy the day wherein
I buried them both: the first wTas on Saint An-
drew's day, the other on Saint Luke's.

Erest. And now, neighbour, you of this coun-
try say, your custom is out. But on with your tale,
neighbour.

OLD WIVES' TALE 31

Lamp. By my first wife, whose tongue weaned
me alive, and sounded in my ears like the clapper
of a great bell, whose talk was a continual torment
to all that dwelt by her or lived nigh her, you have
heard me say I had a handsome daughter.

Erest. True, neighbour.

Lamp. She it is that afflicts me with her con-
tinual clamours, and hangs on me like a bur: poor
she is, and proud she is; as poor as a sheep new-
shorn, and as proud of her hopes as a peacock of
her tail well-grown.

Erest. Well said, Lampriscus, you speak it like
an Englishman.

Lamp. As curst as a wasp, and as froward as a
child new-weaned ; she is to my age, as smoke to
the eyes, or as vinegar to the teeth.

Erest. Holily praised, neighbour. As much for
the next.

Lamp. By my other wife I had a daughter so
hard-favoured, so foul and ill faced, that I think a
grove full of golden trees, and the leaves of rubies
and diamonds, would not be a dowry answerable
to her deformity.

Erest. Well, neighbour, now you have spoke,
hear me speak : send them to the well for the water
of life; there shall they find their fortunes unlooked
for. Neighbour, farewell.

Lamp. Farewell, and a thousand. [Erestus
goes out by the ivell.~\ And now goeth poor Lam-
priscus to put in execution this excellent counsel.

32 OLD WIVES' TALE

[He goes out right.]

Fro. Why, this goes round without a fiddling-
stick: but, do you hear, gammer, was this the man
that was a bear in the night and a man in the day?
Madge. Ay, this is he; and this man that came
to him was a beggar, and dwelt upon a green. [En-
trance of Harvesters for dance.] But soft! who
come here ? O, these are the harvestmen ; ten to
one they sing a song of mowing.
[Their song is sung without.]

All ye that lovely lovers be,

Pray you for me:

Lo, here we come a-sowing, a-sowing,

And sow sweet fruits of love;

In your sweet hearts well may it prove !
[Enter, fireplace, Huanebango violently frighten-
ing off the dancers and awakening Fantastic with a
start. He is dressed in fantastic and highly-colored
garb, as one who is complacent about himself, and
bears in his hand a great two-handed sword, whose
blade, however, in spite of much boasting, has not
yet been steeped in gore. It may be there is in this
fantastical figure a touch of satire upon knighthood
which is past its flower. Huanebango is followed
by Corebus, the booby, arrayed as for a village fes-
tival in the proudest of suits. Let those who are
hasty to judge this Corebus a coward, withhold
their opinion. He likes not the point of a two-
handed sword when it is thrust at his breast, but
he knows the boasting of Huan to be the hollowest

OLD WIVES' TALE 33

mocki ry and shows himself after all a man of
judgment in many things, having, indeed, no little
learning of his onn. As Huan begins his speech,
Fantastic and Frolic start after Corebus and Huan
in great curiosity, but at sight of his sic or d return
hastily to the settle.}

Huan. Now, by Mars and Mercury, Jupiter
and Janus, Sol and Saturnus, Venus and Vesta,
Pallas and Proserpina, and by the honour of my
house, Polimackeroeplacidus, it is a wonder to see
what this love will make silly fellows adventure,
even in the wane of their wits and infancy of their
discretion. Alas, my friend, what fortune calls
thee forth to seek thy fortune among brazen gates,
enchanted towers, fire and brimstone, thunder and
lightning? Her beauty, I tell thee, is peerless, and
she precious whom thou affectest. Do off these
desires, good countryman : good friend, run away
from thyself; and, so soon as thou canst, forget her,
whom none must inherit but he that can monsters
tame, labours achieve, riddles absolve, loose en-
chantments, murder magic, and kill conjuring, —
and that is the great and mighty Huanebango.

Cor. Hark you, sir, hark you. First know I
have here the flurting feather, and have given the
parish the start for the long stock:1 now, sir, if it
be no more but running through a little lightning
and thunder, and "riddle me, riddle me, what's
this?" I'll have the wench from the conjurer, if

1 Long stocking.

34 OLD WIVES' TALE

he were ten conjurers.

Fan. [Fearfully and with deep interest.] Gam-
mer, what is he?

Madge. [Condescendingly superior. She has
never stopped knitting. This is her story and noth-
ing can surprise her.] O, this is one that is going
to the conjurer: let him alone, hear what he says.1

Huan. I have abandoned the court and honour-
able company, to do my devoir against this sore
sorcerer and mighty magician: if this lady be so
fair as she is said to be, she is mine, she is mine;
meus, mea, meurn, in contemptum omnium gram-
maticorum.

Cor. O falsum Latinum!
The fair maid is minum,
Cum apurtinantibus gihletis and all.

Huan. If she be mine, as I assure myself the
heavens will do somewhat to reward my worthiness,
she shall be allied to none of the meanest gods, but
be invested in the most famous stock of Huane-
bango, — Polimackeroeplacidus, my grandfather, my
father, Pergopolineo, my mother, Dionora de Sar-
dinia, famously descended.

Cor. Do you hear, sir? had not you a cousin
that was called Gusteceridis?

Huan. Indeed, I had a cousin that sometime
followed the court infortunately, and his name Bus-
tegusteceridis. [Enter, well to cross, Erestus, un-

1 This speech and the one which precedes were origi-
nally before the first speech of Huanebango.

OLD WIVES' TALE 35

seen.]

Cor. O Lord, I know him well! he is the knight
of the neat's-feet.

Huax. O, he loved no capon better! he hath
oftentimes deceived his boy of his dinner; that was
his fault, good Bustegusteceridis.

Cor. Come, shall we go along? [Sees Eres-
tus.]

Soft! here is an old man at the cross: let us ask
him the way thither. — Ho, you gaffer! I pray you
tell where the wise man the conjurer dwells.

Huan. Where that earthly goddess keepeth her
abode, the commander of my thoughts, and fair
mistress of my heart.

Erest. Fair enough, and far enough from thy
fingering, son.

Huan. I will follow my fortune after mine own
fancy, and do according to mine own discretion.

Erest. Yet give something to an old man be-
fore you go.

Huan. Father, methinks a piece of this cake
might serve your turn.
Erest. Yea, son.

Huax. Huanebango giveth no cakes for alms:
ask of them that give gifts for poor beggars. — Fair
lady, if thou wert once shrined in this bosom, I
would buckler thee haratantara. [He goes out by
the zv el I.]

Cor. Father, do you see this man? you little
think he'll run a mile or two for such a cake, or

36 OLD WIVES' TALE

pass1 for a pudding. I tell you, father, he has kept
such a begging of me for a piece of this cake!
Whoo ! he comes upon me with "a superfantial sub-
stance, and the foison of the earth," that I know
not what he means. If he came to me thus, and
said, "My friend, Corebus," or so, why, I could
spare him a piece with all my heart; but when he
tells me how God hath enriched me above other
fellows with a cake, why, he makes me blind and
deaf at once. Yet, father, here is a piece of cake
for you, as hard as the world goes. [Gives cake.]

Erest. Thanks, son, but list to me;
He shall be deaf when thou shalt not see.
Farewell, my son; things may so hit,
Thou mayst have wealth to mend thy wit.

Cor. Farewell, father, farewell; for I must
make haste after my two-hand sword that is gone
before.

[They go out severally, Corebus by well, Erestus
by fireplace. Madge keeps on knitting. Fantastic
composes himself for another nap and Frolic turns
his attention again to his feet.]

[The back curtain is drawn aside by two fairies,
who take their stand on either side the entrance to
the cell. Sacrapant, the sorcerer, appears in his
cell and there does magic. He is clad in the dark
robes of sorcery and is in form majestic. In his
hand he bears a wand and on his head he wears a
wreath, the signs of his magic power. Without
'Care for.

OLD WIVES' TALE 37

these he is impotent and doomed to death. At his
first word there are signs of intense fear in the
three spectators, which die down as the incidents
unfold.]

Sac. The day is clear, the welkin bright and
grey,
The lark is merry and records her notes;
Each thing rejoiceth underneath the sky,
But only I, whom heaven hath in hate,
Wretched and miserable Sacrapant.
In Thessaly was I born and brought up:
My mother Meroe hight, a famous witch,
And by her cunning I of her did learn
To change and alter shapes of mortal men.
There did I turn myself into a dragon,
And stole away the daughter to the king,
Fair Delia, the mistress of my heart;
And brought her hither to revive the man1
That seemeth young and pleasant to behold,
And yet is aged, crooked, weak, and numb.
Thus by enchanting spells I do deceive
Those that behold and look upon my face;
But well may I bid youthful years adieu.
See where she comes from whence my sorrows
grow !

[Delia enters by the well with a pot in her hand.
She is drawn, it seems, by the magic in the wand of
Sacrapant for she walks as one fixed in a dream,
modestly and with a charming innocence.]
1 Sacrapant.

38 OLD WIVES' TALE

How now, fair Delia! where have you been?

Del. At the foot of the rock for running water,
and gathering roots for your dinner, sir.

Sac. Ah, Delia,
Fairer art thou than the running water,
Yet harder far than steel or adamant!
Del. Will it please you to sit down, sir?
Sac. Ay, Delia, sit and ask me what thou wilt,
thou shalt have it brought into thy lap.

Del. Then, I pray you, sir, let me have the Best
meat from the King of England's table, and the
best wine in all France, brought in by the veriest
knave in all Spain.

Sac. Delia, I am glad to see you so pleasant:
Well, sit thee down. —

[There is without the sound of voices singing an
incantation. Sacrapant with the magic in his wand
directs the two fairies standing by his cell door to
set the table and draws from his cell a fat and jolly
friar in black to serve his meat. As the song ceases
the fairies return to their places beside the curtain,
and the Friar places the food upon the table.]
Spread, table, spread,
Meat, drink, and bread.
Ever may I have
What I ever crave.
When I am spread,
Meat for my black cock,
And meat for my red.
[Sacrapant and Delia seat themselves, the Friar

OLD WIVES' TALE 39

standing behind the chair of Sacrapant.]

Sac. Here, Delia, will ye fall to?

Del. Is this the best meat in England?

Sac. Yea.

Del. What is it?

Sac. A chine of English beef, meat for a king
and a king's followers.

Del. Is this the best wine in France?

Sac. Yea.

Del. What wine is it?

Sac. A cup of neat wine of Orleans, that never
came near the brewers in England.

Del. Is this the veriest knave in all Spain?

Sac. Yea.

Del. What, is he a friar?

Sac. Yea, a friar indefinite, and a knave infinite.

Del. Then, I pray ye, Sir Friar, tell me before
you go, which is the most greediest Englishman?

Fri. The miserable and most covetous usurer.

Sac. Hold thee there, friar. [The Friar goes
into the cell.] But, soft! [Sacrapant arises.]
Who have we here? Delia, away, be gone!
Delia, away! for beset are we. — [Delia disappears
in the cell. Fairies remove table and stools,
close curtains and go out.]
But heaven or hell shall rescue her for me. [From
cell door. He then goes out.]

[The two brothers enter by the well, searching
anxiously for Delia.]

First Bro. Brother, was not that Delia did

4o OLD WIVES' TALE

appear,
Or was it but her shadow that was here?

Second Bro. Sister, where art thou? Delia,
come again!
He calls, that of thy absence doth complain. —
Call out, Calypha, so that she may hear,
And cry aloud, for Delia is near.

Echo. Near.

First Bro. Near ! O, where ? hast thou any tid-
ings?

Echo. Tidings.

Second Bro. Which way is Delia, then ? or that,
or this?

Echo. This.

First Bro. And may we safely come where
Delia is?

Echo. Yes.

Second Bro. Brother, remember you the white
bear of England's wood?
"Start not aside for every danger,
Be not afeard of every stranger;
Things that seem are not the same."

First Bro. Brother,
Why do we not, then, courageously enter?

Second Bro. Then, brother, draw thy sword
and follow me.

[It lightens and thunders as Sacrapant enters
from the cell, the curtains of which fairies have
drawn as before. The Second Brother falls down.
Fantastic and Frolic attempt to run away. Madge

OLD WIVES' TALE 41

tries to hide.]

First Bro. What, brother, dost thou fall?

Sac. Ay, and thou too, Calypha.

[The First Brother falls down.]
Adeste, daemones!

[Enter from cell Two Furies in red with awful
countenances. And the three for whom the tale is
played are crouching in the very fireplace, debased
with terror.]

Away with them:
Carry them straight to Sacrapanto's cell,
There in despair and torture for to dwell.

[Furies go out with the Two Brothers. When
the Furies disappear Sacrapant advances to the
mound of earth and there speaks.]
These are Thenores' sons of Thessaly,
That come to seek Delia their sister forth;
But, with a potion I to her have given,
My arts have made her to forget herself.

[Removes a turf, and shoivs a light in a glass.
The three huddled ones grow more calm.]
See here the thing which doth prolong my life,
With this enchantment I do anything;
And till this fade, my skill shall still endure;
And never none shall break this little glass,
But she that's neither wife, widow, nor maid:

[He starts ivith relief across the stage where con-
fronted by the cross the evil in him cowers before
the symbol and he retreats unmanned into his cell.]
Then cheer thyself; this is thy destiny,

42 OLD WIVES' TALE

Never to die but by a dead man's hand. [He goes
out; fairies close cell curtains as before.]

[Enter, fireplace, Erestus to the cross. Follow-
ing him not too closely, comes Eumenides the ex-
hausted lover of Delia, in clothing once fine but
bedraggled by many wanderings.]

Eum. Tell me, Time,
Tell me, just Time, when shall I Delia see?
When shall I see the loadstar of my life?
When shall my wandering course end with her

sight,
Or I but view my hope, my heart's delight?

[He sees Erestus at the cross. .]
Father, God speed! if you tell fortunes, I pray,
good father, tell me mine.

Erest. Son, I do see in thy face
Thy blessed fortune work apace:
I do perceive that thou hast wit;
Beg of thy fate to govern it,
For wisdom governed by advice,
Makes many fortunate and wise.
Bestow thy alms, give more than all,
Till dead men's bones come at thy call.
Farewell, my son: dream of no rest,
Till thou repent that thou didst best.

[Goes out, well.]

Eum. [Sitting by the cross.] This man hath
left me in a labyrinth:
He biddeth me give more than all,
Till dead men's bones come at my call;

OLD WIVES' TALE 43

He biddeth me dream of no rest.
Till I repent that I do best. [Leans against cross
and sleeps.]

[Enter Wiggen, Corebus, Churchwarden, and
Sexton, the first tico bearing upon a bier a body
covered with a black cloth, the Churchwarden with
a Staff in his hand, and the Sexton carrying a shovel.
Wiggin and Corebus are slightly the worse for wear
and as a result combative ; the Churchwarden has
the courage of his convictions, zihich are few and
those not complex; the Sexton is a coward unless
proti cted by the broad back and resolute shoulders
of the Churchwarden, u'hen he ventures some slight
expostulatory gestures. On the whole they are a
commonplace quartette of villagers engaged in a
somewhat heated argument. They advance front
during the altercation, putting dozen the bier.
Meanwhile Madge and her friends are composed
again, Madge nearly asleep over her knitting. She
quite goes off ; but Fantastic and Frolic get inter-
ested in the quarrel and even investigate the bier.]

Wig. You may be ashamed, you rascally scald
Sexton and Churchwarden, if you had any shame
in those shameless faces of yours, to let a poor man
lie so long above ground unburied. A rot on you
all, that have no more compassion of a good fellow
when he is gone!

Church. What, would you have us to bury him
and to answer it ourselves to the parish?

Sex. Parish me no parishes; pay me my fees,

44 OLD WIVES' TALE

and let the rest run on in the quarter's accounts,
and put it down for one of your good deeds, o' God's
name! for I am not one that curiously stands upon
merits.

Cor. You rascally, sodden-headed sheep's face,
shall a good fellow do less service and more hon-
esty to the parish, and will you not, when he is
dead, let him have Christmas burial?

Wig. Peace, Corebus ! as sure as Jack was Jack,
the frolic'st franion amongst you, and I, Wiggen,
his sweet sworn brother, Jack shall have his fu-
nerals, or some of them shall lie on God's dear earth
for it, that's once.

Church. Wiggen, I hope thou wilt do no more
than thou darest answer.

Wig. Sir, sir, dare or dare not, more or less,
answer or not answer, — do this, or have this.

Sex. Help, help, help!

[Wiggen sets upon the Churchwarden with his
fists. Eumenides awakes and comes to them.]

Eum. Hold thy hands, good fellow.

Cor. Can you blame him, sir, if he take Jack's
part against this shake-rotten parish that will not
bury Jack?

Eum. Why, what was that Jack?

Cor. Who, Jack, sir? who, our Jack, sir? as
good a fellow as ever trod upon neat's-leather.

Wig. Look you, sir; he gave fourscore and nine-
teen mourning gowns to the parish, when he died,
and because he would not make them up a full hun-

OLD WIVES' TALE 45

dred, they would not bury him: was not this good
dealing?

Church. O Lord, sir, how he lies! he was not
worth a halfpenny, and drunk out every penny; and
now his fellows, his drunken companions, would
have us to bun- him at the charge of the parish. An
we make many such matches, we may pull down the
steeple, sell the bells, and thatch the chancel: he
shall lie above ground till he dance a galliard about
the churchyard, for Steeven Loach.

Wig. Sic argumentaris, Domine Loach, — An we
make many such matches, we may pull down the
steeple, sell the bells and thatch the chancel? In
good time, sir, and hang yourselves in the bell-ropes,
when you have done. Domine, opponens praepono
tibi hanc quaestionem, whether will you have the
ground broken or your pates broken first? for one
of them shall be done presently, and to begin mine,
I'll seal it upon your coxcomb.

EuM. Hold thy hands, I pray thee, good fel-
low; be not too hasty.

Cor. You capon's face, we shall have you turned
out of the parish one of these days, with never a
tatter to your back; then you are in worse taking
than Jack.

Eum. Faith, and he is bad enough. This fellow
does but the part of a friend, to seek to bury his
friend : how much will bury him?

Wig. Faith, about some fifteen or sixteen shil-
lings will bestow him honestly.

46 OLD WIVES' TALE

Sex. Ay, even thereabouts, sir.

Eum. Here, hold it, then: — [aside] and I have
left me but one poor three halfpence: now do I
remember the words the old man spake at the cross,
"Bestow all thou hast," and this is all, "till dead
men's bones come at thy call" ; — here, hold it [gives
money] ', and so farewell.

Wig. God, and all good, be with you, sir!
[Eumenides goes out, well.] Nay, you cormorants,
I'll bestow one peal of1 Jack at mine own proper
costs and charges.

Cor. You may thank God the long staff and
the bilboblade crossed not your coxcombs. — Well,
we'll to the churchstile and have a pot, and so
trill-lill. [Goes out with Wiggen, left front.]

Church.) Come, let's go. [They go out left

Sex. ) front carrying bier.]

Fan. But, hark you, gammer [nudging her],
methinks this Jack bore a great sway in the parish.

Madge. [Sleepily.] O, this Jack was a mar-
vellous fellow ! he was but a poor man, but very
well beloved : you shall see anon what this Jack will
come to. [Goes back to sleep.]

[The Harvestmen return from reaping, with the
Women, as their song is sung outside.]

Fro. Soft ! who have we here ? our amorous har-
vesters.

Fan. Ay, ay, let us sit still, and let them alone.

[Singing without, as they dance.]

1On.

OLD WIVES' TALE 47

Lo, here we come a-reaping, a-reaping,
To reap our harvest-fruit!
And thus we pass the year so long,
And never be we mute.
[Enter, well, Huanebango abruptly, frightening
them aii' ay."]

HuAN. Fee, fa, fum,

Here is the Englishman, —
Conquer him that can, —
Come for his lady bright,
To prove himself a knight,
And win her love in fight.
Fro. Soft! who have we here?
Madge. [Awaking.] O, this is a choleric gen-
tleman! All you that love your lives, keep out of
the smell of his two-hand sword: now goes he to
the conjurer.

Fax. Methinks the conjurer should put the fool
into a juggling-box.1
[Enter Corebus, well.]

Cor. Who-haw, Master Bango, are you here?
hear you, you had best sit down here, and beg an
alms with me.

Huax. Hence, base cullion! here is he that

commandeth ingress and egress with his weapon,

and will enter at his voluntary, whosoever saith no.

Voice. No.

[A flame of fire ; and Huanebango falls dozen.]

1 Originally this speech and the two preceding it were
before the first speech by Huanebango.

48 OLD WIVES' TALE

Madge. [Aroused.] So with that they kissed
and spoiled the edge of as good a two-hand sword
as ever God put life in. Now goes Corebus in, spite
of the conjurer. [During this speech the fairies
open cell curtains as before.]

[Enter Sacrapant followed by Two Furies.]
Sac. Away with him into the open fields,
To be a ravening prey to crows and kites:

[Huan is carried out by the Two Furies.]
And for this villain, let him wander up and down,
In naught but darkness and eternal night.

[Strikes Corebus blind.]
Cor. Here hast thou slain Huan, a slashing
knight,
And robbed poor Corebus of his sight.
Sac. Hence, villain, hence!

[Corebus goes out, gropingly, at the right.]
Now I have unto Delia given a potion of forget-
fulness.

[The three are now all asleep.]
That, when she comes, she shall not know her

brothers.
Lo, where they labour, like to country-slaves,
With spade and mattock, on this enchanted ground !
Now will I call her by another name;
For never shall she know herself again
Until that Sacrapant hath breathed his last
See where she comes.

[Enter, well, Delia, still passively controlled by
the wand of Sacrapant. She goes into Sacrapant's

OLD WIVES' TALE 49

magic circle drawn upon the ground.]
Come hither, Delia, take this goad; here hard
At hand two slaves do work and dig for gold:
Gore them with this, and thou shalt have enough.

[Gives her a goad.]

Del. Good sir, I know not what you mean.

Sac. [Aside.] She hath forgotten to be Delia,
But not forgot the same she should forget;
But I will change her name. —
Fair Berecynthia, so this country calls you,
Go ply these strangers, wench; they dig for gold.
[He goes out through cell.]

Del. O heavens, how
Am I beholding to this fair young man !
But I must ply these strangers to their work:
See where they come.

[Enter, cell, the Two Brothers, in their shirts,
with spades. They advance to plead with Delia,
who drives them to work at the mound of earth.]

First Bro. O brother, see where Delia is!

Second Bro. O Delia,
Happy are we to see thee here!

Del. What tell you me of Delia, prating swains?
I know no Delia, nor know I what you mean.
Ply you your work, or else you're like to smart.

First Bro. Why, Delia, know'st thou not thy
brothers here?
We come from Thessaly to seek thee forth;
And thou deceiv'st thyself, for thou art Delia.

Del. Yet more of Delia? then take this, and

I

OLD WIVES' TALE

smart: [Whips them.]

What, feign you shifts for to defer your labour?
Work, villains, work; it is for gold you dig.

Second Bro. Peace, brother, peace: this vile
enchanter
Hath ravished Delia of hen^sensesf clean,
nd she forgets that she is Delia.
First Bro. Leave, cruel thou, to hurt the mis-
erable.—
Dig, brother, dig, for she is hard as steel.

[Here they dig, and descry a light in a glass under
a little hill.]

Second Bro. Stay, brother; what hast thou

descried ?
Del. Away, and touch it not; 'tis something
that
My lord hath hidden there.

[Covers the light again.]
[Re-enter Sacrapant from cell.]
Sac. Well said ! thou plyest these pioners well. —
Go get you in, you labouring slaves.

[The Two Brothers go into the cell.]
Come, Berecynthia, let us in likewise,
And hear the nightingale record her notes.

[They go into the cell and fairies close the cur-
tains.]

[Enter, right, Zantippa to the well of life with a
pot in her hand. Zantippa's name belies neither her-
self nor the description her father has given her.
She is fair and comely but has a "tongue with a

OLD WIVES' TALE 51

tang" and a disposition matching it.}

Zan. Now for a husband, house, and home: God
send a good one or none, I pray God! My father
hath sent me to the well for the water of life, and
tells me, if I give fair words, I shall have a husband.
But here comes Celanta, my sweet sister: I'll stand
by and hear what she says. [Retires.]

[Enter, right, Celanta to the well of life, with a
pot in her hand. She is the opposite to her sister.
Dark, ill-favored, almost homely in appearance, she
has a disposition as gentle as an opening bud in May.
There is no malice in her, though she thinks ivhat
she thinks about Zantippa.]

Cel. My father hath sent me to the well for
water, and he tells me, if I speak fair, I shall have
a husband, and none of the worst. Well, though
I am black, I am sure all the world will not for-
sake me; and, as the old proverb is, though I am
black, I am not the devil.

Zan. [Coming forward.] Marry-gup with a
murren, I know wherefore thou speakest that: but
go thy ways home as wise as thou earnest, or I'll
set thee home with a wanion.

[Here she snatches away her sister's pitcher and
rushes out, left.]

Cel. I think this be the curstest quean in the
world: you see what she is, a little fair, but as
proud as the devil, and the veriest vixen that lives
upon God's earth. Well, I'll let her alone, and go
home, and get another pitcher, and, for all this, get

52

OLD WIVES' TALE

me to the well for water. [She goes out, right.]

[Enter, out of Sacrapant's cell, the Two Furies,
carrying Huanebango : they lay him by the Well of
\Life, and then go out. Re-enter Zantippa with a
pitcher to the well.~\

Zan. Once again for a husband; and, in faith,
Celanta I have got the start of you; belike hus-
bands grow by the well-side. Now my father says
I must rule my tongue: why, alas, what am I, then?
A woman without a tongue is as a soldier without
his weapon : but I'll have my water, and be gone.

[Here she offers to dip her pitcher in, and a
Head rises in the well.]

[Singing without.] Gently dip, but not too deep,
For fear you make the golden beard to weep,
Fair maiden, white and red,
Stroke me smooth, and comb my head,
And thou shalt have some cockell-bread.

Zan. What is this?
"Fair maiden, white and red,
Comb me smooth, and stroke my head,
And thou shalt have some cockell-bread?"
"Cockell" callest thou it, boy? faith, I'll give you
cockell-bread.

[She threatens to break her pitcher upon the
Head : then it thunders and lightens; and Huane-
bango, who is deaf and cannot hear, rises up. Huan
zvoos as he does everything else, not intelligently,
but violently. Yet Zantippa both matches and cap-
tures him.]

OLD WIVES' TALE 53

Huan. Philida, phileridos, pamphilida, florida,

flortos :
Dub dub-a-dub, bounce, quoth the guns, with a

sulphurous huff-snuff:
Waked with a wench, pretty peat, pretty love and

my sweet pretty pigsnie,
Just by thy side shall sit surnamed great Huane-

bango :
Safe in my arms will I keep thee, threat Mars, or

thunder Olympus.
[His outburst wakens the three, who exhibit
great interest.]

Z.ax. [Aside.'] Foh, what greasy groom have we
here? He looks as though he crept out of the back-
side of the well, and speaks like a drum perished
at the west end.

HtJAN. O, that I might, — but I may not, woe

to my destiny therefore —
Kiss that I clasp ! but I cannot : tell me, my destiny,

wherefore ?
Zan\ [Aside.] Whoop, now I have my dream.
Did you never hear so great a wonder as this, three
blue beans in a blue bladder, rattle, bladder, rattle?
HuAN. [Aside.] I'll now set my countenance,
and to her in prose; it may be, this rim-ram-ruff is
too rude an encounter. — Let me, fair lady, if you
be at leisure, revel with your sweetness, and rail
upon that cowardly conjurer, that hath cast me, or
congealed me rather, into an unkind sleep, and pol-
luted mv carcass.

I

54 OLD WIVES' TALE

Zant. [Aside.] Laugh, laugh, Zantippa; thou
hast thy fortune, a fool and a husband under one.

Huan. Truly, sweetheart, as I seem, about some
twenty years, the very April of mine age.

Zan. [Aside.] Why, what a prating ass is this!

Huan. Her coral lips, her crimson chin,
Her silver teeth so white within,
Her golden locks, her rolling eye,
Her pretty parts, let them go by,
Heigh-ho, have wounded me,
That I must die this day to see!

Zan. By Gogs-bones, thou art a flouting knave:
"her coral lips, her crimson chin!" ka, wilshaw!

Huan. True, my own, and my own because
mine, and mine because mine, ha, ha! — Above a
thousand pounds in possibility, and things fitting
thy desire in possession.

Zan. [Aside.] The sot thinks I ask of his
lands. Lob be your comfort. . . . Hear you, sir;
an if you will have us, you had best say so betime.

Huan. True, sweetheart, and will royalize thy
progeny with my pedigree.

[They go out, fireplace. Zantippa the Shrew and
Huanebango the Boaster go the primrose path of
dalliance out of the tale into Fairyland.]

[Enter, left, Corebus, who is blind, and Celanta,
to the Well of Life for zvater.]1

Cor. Come, my duck, come: I have now got a

1This episode in the original follows the one it here
precedes.

OLD WIVES' TALE 55

wife: thou art fair, art thou not?

Cel. My Corebus, the fairest alive; make no
doubt of that.

Cor. Come, wench, are we almost at the well?

Cel. Ay, Corebus, we are almost at the well
now.
I'll go fetch some water: sit down while I dip my
pitcher in.

[A Head comes up uith ears of corn, which she
combs into her lap.]

[Singing ivithout.] Gently dip, but not too deep,
For fear you make the golden beard to weep.
Fair maiden, white and red,
Comb me smooth, and stroke my head,
And thou shalt have some cockell-bread.

[A Second Head comes up full of gold, which
she combs into her lap.]

[Singing nithout.] Gently dip. but not too deep,
For fear thou make the golden beard to weep.
Fair maid, white and red,
Comb me smooth, and stroke my head,
And every hair a sheaf shall be,
And every sheaf a golden tree.

Cel. O, see, Corebus, I have combed a great
deal of gold into my lap, and a great deal of corn!

Cor. Well said, wench! [He feels in her lap.]
Now we shall have just enough: God send us coin-
ers to coin our gold. But come, shall we go home,
sweetheart?

Cel. Nay, come, Corebus, I will lead you.

56 OLD WIVES' TALE

Cor. So, Corebus, things have well hit;
Thou hast gotten wealth to mend thy wit.

[They go out, fireplace.]

{Enter, well, Eumenides, even more hopeless than
before. He seats himself, despondent, at the cross.
The three go gradually off to sleep for the rest of
the play.]

Eum. Wretched Eumenides, still unfortunate,
Envied by fortune and forlorn by fate,
Here pine and die, wretched Eumenides,
Die in the spring, the April of thy age!
Here sit thee down, repent what thou hast done:
I would to God that it were ne'er begun!

[Enter, fireplace, Ghost of Jack, following^ Eu-
menides. The shadow of a sprightly young fellow
full of attitudes and the play of wit and fancy in
many poses. This is no somber and mysterious
ghost, except when bent upon undoing evil. Even
then he goes about his business somewhat more
cheerfully than do many.']

G. of Jack. You are well overtaken, sir.

Eum. Who's that?

G. of Jack. You are heartily well met, sir.

Eum. Forbear, I say; who is that which pinch-
eth me?

G. of Jack. Trusting in God, good Master
Eumenides, that you are in so good health as all
your friends were at the making hereof, — God give
you good morrow, sir! Lack you not a neat, hand-
some, and cleanly young lad, about the age of fifteen

OLD WIVES' TALE 57

or sixteen years, that can run by your horse, and,
for a need, make your mastership's shoes as black as
ink? How say you, sir?

Eum. Alas, pretty lad, I know not how to keep
myself, and much less a servant, my pretty boy; my
state is so bad.

G. of Jack. Content yourself, you shall not be
so ill a master but I'll be as bad a servant. Tut, sir,
I know you, though you know not me : are not you
the man, sir, deny it if you can, sir, that came from
a strange place in the land of Catita, where Jack-
an-apes flies with his tail in his mouth, to seek out
a lady as white as snow and as red as blood? Ha,
ha! have I touched you now?

Eum. [J side.] I think this boy be a spirit. —
How knowest thou all this?

G. of Jack. Tut, are not you the man, sir, deny
it if you can, sir, that gave all the money you had to
the burying of a poor man, and but one three half-
pence left in your purse? Content you, sir. I'll
serve you, that is flat.

Eum. Well, my lad, since thou are so importu-
nate, I am content to entertain thee, not as a serv-
ant, but a co-partner in my journey. But whither
shall we go? for I have not any money more than
one bare three halfpence.

G. of Jack. Well, master, content yourself, for
if my divination be not out, that shall be spent at the
next inn or alehouse we come to; for, master, I
know you are passing hungry: therefore I'll go

58 OLD WIVES' TALE

before and provide dinner until that you come; no
doubt but you'll come fair and softly after.

Eum. Ay, go before: I'll follow thee. [Hope-
lessly.]

G. of Jack. But do you hear, master? do you
know my name?

Eum. No, I promise thee; not yet.

G. of Jack. Why, I am Jack. [He goes out,
behind settle.]

Eum. Jack! why, be it so, then. [Still he fails
to recognize this ghost.]

[Fairies bring in table and stool, taking position
at front curtains. Enter Hostess, a trim and smiling
woman, and Jack setting meat on the table. Eu-
menides walks up and down and will eat no meat.]

Host. How say you, sir? do you please to sit
down?

Eum. Hostess, I thank you, I have no great
stomach. [Seats himself.]

Host. Pray, sir, what is the reason your master
is so strange? doth not this meat please him?

G. of Jack. Yes, hostess, but it is my master's
fashion to pay before he eats; therefore, a reckon-
ing, good hostess.

Host. Marry, shall you, sir, presently. [She
goes out, behind settle.]

Eum. Why, Jack, what dost thou mean? thou
knowest I have not any money; therefore, sweet
Jack, tell me what shall I do?

G. of Jack. Well, master, look in your purse.

OLD WIVES' TALE 59

Eum. Why, faith, it is a folly, for I have no
money.

G. of Jack. Why, look you, master; do so much
for me.

Eum. [Looking into his purse.] Alas, Jack, my
purse is full of money!

G. of Jack. "Alas," master! does that word
belong to this accident? why, methinks I should have
seen you cast away your cloak and in a bravado dance
a galliard round about the chamber : why, master,
your man can teach you more wit than this.

[He calls the Hostess.]

Come, Hostess, cheer up my master.

Host. [Entering.] You are heartily welcome;
and if it please you to eat of a fat capon, a fairer
bird, a finer bird, a sweeter bird, a crisper bird, a
neater bird, your worship never eat of.

Eum. Thanks, my fine, eloquent Hostess.

G. of Jack. But hear you, master, one word by
the way: are you content I shall be halves in all you
get in your journey?

Eum. [Rising.] I am, Jack, here is my hand.

G. of Jack. Enough, master, I ask no more.

Eum. Come, Hostess, receive your money; and
I thank you for my good entertainment. [Gives
money.]

Host. You are heartily welcome, sir.

Eum. Come, Jack, whither go we now?

G. of Jack. Marry, master, to the conjurer's
presently.

60 OLD WIVES' TALE

Eum. Content, Jack. — Hostess, farewell.

[Hostess goes out behind settle.]

G. of Jack. Come away, master, come.

[They start toward the cross. Fairies go out he-
hind settle, with table and stool.]

Eum. Go along, Jack, I'll follow thee. Jack,
they say it is good to go cross-legged, and say pray-
ers backward ; how sayest thou ?

G. of Jack. Tut, never fear, master; let me
alone. Here sit you still; speak not a word; and
because you shall not be enticed with his enchanting
speeches, with this same wool I'll stop your ears.
[Puts wool into the ears of Eumenides.] And so,
master, sit still, for I must to the conjurer.

[He goes out through closed curtains of cell un-
seen of Sacrapant who instantly appears between the
undrawn curtains and is as instantly followed by the
Ghost of Jack invisible to the sorcerer.]

Sac. How now ! what man art thou, that sits so
sad?
Why dost thou gaze upon these stately trees
Without the leave and will of Sacrapant?
What, not a word but mum? Then, Sacrapant,
Thou art betrayed.

[ The Ghost of Jack takes Sacrapant's wreath off
from his head and wearing it himself runs about
the stage. Sacrapant looks about in dread but sees
him not.]

What hand invades the head of Sacrapant?
What hateful Fury doth envy my happy state?

OLD WIVES' TALE 61

Then, Sacrapant, these are thy latest days.

[ The Ghost comes flitting back and twists from
Sacrapant's nerveless fingers his magic icand ; hold-
ing it as Sacrapant ivas used to do until the sorcerer
has disappeared.]

Alas, my veins are numbed, my sinews shrink,
My blood is pierced, my breath fleeting away,
And now my timeless date is come to end !
He in whose life his acts have been so foul,
Now in his death to hell descends his soul.

[He goes out through closed curtains of cell.]

G. of Jack. O, sir, are you gone? Now I hope
we shall have some other coil. Now master, how
like you this? the conjurer he is dead, and vows
nc.er to trouble us more. Now get you to your
fair lady, and see what you can do with her. — Alas,
he heareth me not all this while! but I will help
that.

[Pulls the wool out of the ears of Eumenides.]

Eum. How now, Jack! what news?

G. of Jack. Here, master, take this sword
[Shows Eumenides his own sword, and leads him
to the mound], and dig with it at the foot of this
hill.

[Eumenides digs, and spies a light in a glass.]

Eum. How now, Jack! what is this?

G. of Jack. Master, without this the conjurer
could do nothing; and so long as this light lasts, so
long doth his art endure, and this being out, then
doth his art decay.

62

OLD WIVES' TALE

Eum. Why, then, Jack, I will soon put out this
light.

G. of Jack. Ay, master, how?

Eum. Why, with a stone I'll break the glass,
and then blow it out.

G. of Jack. No, master, you may as soon break
the smith's anvil as this little vial; nor the biggest
blast that ever Boreas blew cannot blow out this
little light; but she that is neither maid, wife, nor
widow. Master, wind this horn, and see what will
happen. [Gives horn.}

[As Eumenides winds the horn. Jack does the
magic of Sacrapant with his wand. Enter Venelia}
who breaks the glass, blows out the light and then
goes out.}

So, master, how like you this? This is she that
ran madding in the woods, his betrothed love that
keeps the cross ; and now, this light being out, all
are restored to their former liberty: and now, mas-
ter, to the lady that you have so long looked for.

[The Ghost of Jack draws the cell curtain, and
discovers Delia sitting asleep. Eumenides kisses her
thrice.}

Eum. [Kneeling.} God speed, fair maid, sit-
ting alone, — there is once; God speed, fair maid, —
there is twice; God speed, fair maid, — that is thrice.

Del. [Awaking.} Not so, good sir, for you are
by.

G. of Jack. Enough, master, she hath spoke;
now I will leave her with you. [He goes out, cell.}

OLD WIVES' TALE 63

Eum. [Arising.'] Thou fairest flower of these
western parts,
Whose beauty so reflecteth in my sight
As doth a crystal mirror in the sun;
For thy sweet sake I have crossed the frozen Rhine ;
Leaving fair Po, I sailed up Danuby,
As far as Saba, whose enhancing streams
Cut twixt the Tartars and the Russians:
These have I crossed for thee, fair Delia:
Then grant me that which I have sued for long.

Del. [Arising.] Thou gentle knight, whose
fortune is so good
To find me out and set my brothers free,
My faith, my heart, my hand I give to thee. [Both
advance.]

Eum. Thanks, gentle madam: but here comes
Jack; thank him, for he is the best friend that we
have.

[Re-enter the Ghost of Jack, with Sacrapant's
head in his hand.]
How now, Jack! what hast thou there?

G. of Jack. Marry, master, the head of the
conjurer.

Eum. Why, Jack, that is impossible; he was a
young man.

G. of Jack. Ah, master, so he deceived them that
beheld him ! but he was a miserable, old, and crooked
man, though to each man's eye he seemed young and
fresh; for, master, this conjurer took the shape of
the old man that kept the cross, and that old man

64 OLD WIVES' TALE

was in the likeness of the conjurer. But now, mas-
ter, wind your horn.

[Eumenides winds his horn. Enter, fireplace,
Venelia, the Two Brothers, and Erestus.]

Eum. Welcome, Erestus! welcome, fair Venelia!
Welcome, Thelea and Calypha both !
Now have I her that I so long have sought,
So saith fair Delia, if we have your consent.

First Bro. Valiant Eumenides, thou well de-
serv'st
To have our favours; so let us rejoice
That by thy means we are at liberty:
Here may we joy each in the other's sight,
And this fair lady have her wandering knight.

G. of Jack. So, master, now ye think you have
done; but I must have a saying to you: you know
you and I were partners, I to have half in all you
got.

Eum. Why, so thou shalt, Jack.

G. of Jack. Why, then, master, draw your
sword, part your lady, let me have half of her
presently.

Eum. Why, I hope, Jack, thou dost but jest: I
promised thee half I got, but not half my lady.

G. of Jack. But what else, master? have you
not gotten her? therefore divide her straight, for I
will have half; there is no remedy.

Eum. Well, ere I will falsify my word unto my
friend, take her all : here, Jack, I'll give her thee.

G. of Jack. Nay, neither more nor less, mas-

OLD WIVES' TALE 05

ter, but even just half.

Eum. Before I will falsify my faith unto my
friend, I will divide her: Jack, thou shalt have half.

First Bro. Be not so cruel unto our sister, gen-
tle knight.

Second Bro. O, spare fair Delia! she deserves
no death.

Eum. Content yourselves; my word is passed to
him. — Therefore prepare thyself, Delia, for thou
must die.

Del. Then farewell, world! adieu, Eumenides!

[Eumenides offers to strike, and the Ghost of
Jack stays him.]

G. of Jack. Stay, master; it is sufficient I have
tried your constancy. Do you now remember since
you paid for the burying of a poor fellow?

Eum. Ay, very well. Jack.

G. of Jack. Then, master, thank that good deed
for this good turn [I go to my grave] : and so God
be with you all! f Disappears behind cell curtain.]

Eum. Tack, what, art thou gone? then farewell,
Jack!—
Come, brothers, and my beauteous Delia,
Erestus, and thy dear Venelia,
We will to Thessaly with joyful hearts.

All. Agreed : we follow thee and Delia.

[They all go out, except Frolic, Fantastic, and
Madge.]

Fax. What, gammer, asleep?

Madge. By the mass, son, 'tis almost day; and

66 OLD WIVES' TALE

my windows shut at the cock's-crow.

Fro. Do you hear, gammer? methinks this Jack
bore a great sway amongst them.

Madge. O, man, this was the ghost of the poor
man that they kept such a coil to bury; and that
makes him to help the wandering knight so much.
But come, let us in: we will have a cup of ale and
a toast this morning, and so depart.

[Enter Clunch and Antic, returning after their
night's sleep. They take their places to watch the
closing fairy dance.]

Fan. Then you have made an end of your tale,
gammer ?

Madge. Yes, faith: when this was done, I took
a piece of bread and cheese, and came my way; and
so shall you have, too, before you go, to your break-
fast. [They go out.]

[Song without, Charm me asleep and Fairy dance.
This time they vanish by the fireplace and the well
as Epilogue enters, right, in severe scholastic garb.
They close the curtains behind them and Epilogue,
left along upon the stage, repeats the following.]
[Now, gentles all, it is the early dawn
When fairies leave the midnight fields and sports
Tempered to mortal minds, and wind their way
Home to the distant hills of Fairyland.
I come a mortal breaking on their spell
To ask your graces' favor. Did we well
To bring you back this wandering Old Wives' Tale,
Or did we ill? However that may be,

OLD WIVES' TALE 67

We hope the Old Wife brought a pleasant hour.
If not, may hours of happiness to come
Atone for one of sadness. So, farewell!]

[He goes out.]

APPENDICES

SKETCH OF PEELE S LIFE

George Peele was one of the group of University
wits (John Lyly, Thomas Lodge, George Peele,
Robert Greene, and Thomas Nashe) who exerted
so potent an influence upon Elizabethan drama just
prior to Shakespeare. He was born in 1558. His
early education was obtained at the Grammar School
connected with Christ's Hospital, of which his fa-
ther, James Peele, was clerk. Peele was an Oxford
man, student at Pembroke and Christ Church, re-
ceiving his B.A. in 1577, his M.A. in 1579. While
a member of the University he had already made so
striking a reputation as poet, scholar, and dramatist,
that in 1583, after a three years' residence in London,
he was called back to Oxford to assist in the prepa-
ration of a dramatic entertainment for the reception
at his college of the Polish prince palatine, Albertus
Alasco. His life leaves nothing to boast of apart
from his writings. A good marriage, financially at
least, was of no assistance to him, as the property
soon vanished. He was dissolute, living a miserable
existence in squalor and depravity. He died in 1598,
69

70 APPENDICES

barely forty years old. The extant plays credited
to him are The Arraignment of Paris, The Old
Wives' Tale, Edward I, The Love of King David
and Fair Bethsabe, and The Battle of Alcazar. In
contrast to the sordidness and failure of his life
stands the dramatic output of the man and the lit-
erary ideals which inspired him. Professor Gum-
mere, writing in Gayley's Representative English
Comedies, says of him: "He was an artist in words,
and he had the gift of humor." And Professor
George P. Baker's comment in the Cambridge His-
tory of English Literature elaborates this thought
when he says that Peele had "an exquisite feeling
for the musical value of words," and further remarks
that in some of his lines is revealed "something of
that peculiar ability which reached its full develop-
ment in the mature Shakespeare — that power of
flashing before us in a line or two something defini-
tive both as a picture and in beauty of phrase."

II

THE FAIRY STORIES IN "THE OLD WIVES' TALE"

In constructing his play Peele made use of four
principal tales, Childe Roland, The Sleeping Beauty,
Jack, the Giant Killer, and The Three Heads of the
Well. In addition, he inserted details common to
many folk-tales and of use in increasing the impres-
sion which he desired to make. He seems to have

APPENDICES 71

felt that the audience must be returned to their
childhood by as many paths as possible. The Childe
Roland story is that of the chief quest of the two
brothers. In it, as here told, Erestus takes the place
of Merlin. The sleeping; beauty story is that of the
quest of Eumenidt-s. With it is bound up that of
Jack, the Giant Killer, who assists Eumenides by
slaying Sacrapant. The daughters of Lampriscus
are the heroines of Peele's version of The Three
Heads of the Well. Some of the subordinate themes
are that of the Life Index in the light whose extinc-
tion meant Sacrapant 's death; the Thankful Dead,
as a motive for Jack's aid to Eumenides; and the
Fee-fo-fum refrain so often spoken by giants and
ogres in the old tales.

Mr. Joseph Jacobs, in his English Fairy Stories,
has traced some of these connections. His notes are
worth quoting, not only for the information given
about the fairy tales in which we are interested, but
because of his antiquarian estimate of the play, \vhich
is so like that of many critics who are without his
knowledge. In his notes upon Childe Roland oc-
curs the following sentence: "That some such story
was current in England in Shakespeare's time is
proved by that curious melange of nursery tales,
Peele's Old Wives' Tale." In his notes upon Jack,
the Giant Killer, he refers to that "Curious play of
Peele's, The Old Wives' Tale, in which one of the
characters is the ghost of Jack." As Professor Gum-
mere remarks, there is an abundant field for scholarly

72 APPENDICES

investigation in tracing the tales which Peele has
used and their affiliations.

Ill

THE MUSIC USED IN THE MIDDLEBURY PRODUCTION

It may be of value to state in the briefest fashion
the adaptations made use of in presenting the music
of the play. Mrs. Maude S. Howard, now of the
music department of Lincoln Memorial University,
who had charge of the music, has kindly furnished
the following statement:

1. The Fairy Ring and Whenas the Rye.

Adapted to a Glee written by John Parry,
"Come, Fairies, Trip It On the Grass."
The recurring phrase, "With a ho, ho, ho,
ho," added to both songs.

2. Mad Maid's Song.

Adapted to a Ballet for five voices, "All
Ye Woods and Trees and Bowers," writ-
ten by Henry Lahee. The first move-
ment only used and sung in unison.

3. All Ye That Lovely Lovers Be.

Adapted to the Chorus of "The Chough
and Crow to Roost Are Gone," written

APPENDICES 73

by Sir Henry R. Bishop. The words of
the chorus of original song added to t\ie
verse of "All ye," etc. Sung in three
parts.

4. Spread, Table, Spread.

Adapted to second movement of "All Ye
Woods and Trees and Flowers," by Mr.
Lahee. Sung in thirds and sixths.

5. Gently Dip, But Not Too Deep.

Adapted to the first five phrases of "The
Chough and Crow to Roost Have Gone,"
by Sir Henry Bishop. Sung in three parts.

6. Charm Me Asleep.

Music written by Maude Stevens Howard
and patterned after an old madrigal in
two parts.

All songs were accompanied by two clarinets and
one flute, the air being played by one clarinet and
flute, the second part played by the second clarinet.
In the three songs the flute played the air and the
two clarinets played the second and third parts.

74 APPENDICES

IV

THE MAD MAID'S SONG, BY ROBERT HERRICK

Good morrow to the day so fair;

Good morning, sir, to you;
Good morrow to mine own torn hair

Bedabbled with the dew.

Good morning to this primrose, too ;

Good morrow to each maid
That will with flowers the tomb bestrew

Wherein my love is laid.

Ah ! woe is me, woe, woe is me,

Alack and welladay!
For pity, Sir, find out that bee

Which bore my love away.

I'll seek him in your bonnet brave,

I'll seek him in your eyes;
Nay, now I think t'have made his grave

I' th' bed of strawberries.

I'll seek him there; I know, ere this,
The cold, cold earth doth shake him;

But I will go, or send a kiss
By you, Sir, to awake him.

APPENDICES 75

Pray hurt him not; though he be dead,
He knows well who do love him,

And who with green turfs reare his head,
And who do rudely move him.

He's soft and tender! pray take heed!

With bands of cowslips bind him,
And bring him home: — but 'tis decreed

That I shall never find him.

T>A

RETURN TO: CIRCULATION DEPARTMENT
198 Main Stacks

LOAN PERIOD 1
Home Use

2

3

4

5

6

ALL BOOKS MAY BE RECALLED AFTER 7 DAYS.

Renewals and Recharges may be made 4 days prior to the due date.
Books may be renewed by calling 642-3405.

DUE AS STAMPED BELOW.

JM 9. 7 2002

FORM NO. DD6
50M 3-02

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, BERKELEY
Berkeley, California 94720-6000

GENERM-

LIBHMW-M- BERKELEY

4>-**4fe»

1 1